


Pleading for an Angel

by MusingDean22



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comforting, Falling In Love, M/M, Nightmares, bed sharing, subtle angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-17 06:48:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8134223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusingDean22/pseuds/MusingDean22
Summary: Encounters between Dean and Castiel as they discover their true feelings for one another.





	1. Please Cas...

When Dean woke up, his head was throbbing and he felt like a million pound weight was pressing on his chest. When he remembered the night before, he pressed his hand over his eyes and groaned. There had been liquor, yes; and there had almost been women. He remembered a brunette with sapphire eyes looking up at him and practically begging him for more, but he turned away and left the bar…alone. Sam was gone when he returned to the motel room, and he let his body fold into a ball on the bed as he begged God…if he was really out there, to ease the ache…somehow. 

Now, as he blinked against the cheap lightbulb in the bathroom, he rubbed his hands over his stubble and stared at the shell of a man in the mirror. He reached one scarred arm over and turned the shower on full blast; he didn’t even flinch as he stepped under the scalding spray. The heat seemed to wake him a little, but he fought it, not sure he wanted to feel right now, or ever. The towel he pulled around his hips was still damp; Sam hadn’t gotten them new towels as usual. 

He flinched as he stretched, remembering Cas’ fingers pressed against his neck, just three weeks earlier. He had been at the end of the line, face down in an alley, ready to end it all…begging for the end, really. The real bitch of it was that he hadn’t even called Cas that time; didn’t want to be saved. But he had felt intense heat on his neck, like he was being branded, and looked up through blood red eyes into the blue eyes of the one that would not let him slip away.

Now, as he looked at the .22 lying on the toilet tank, he knew that he wouldn’t use it to end his pain. Yes, the ache was still there, but something had changed deep inside of him. Like the brand on his neck, something had been branded onto his soul as well. His head may ache, and his chest still hurt like a son of a bitch, but he could feel something stirring as well. Was this what hope felt like? 

He sat back down on the bed, still in the towel, scrubbing his hands over his face and downing the rest of a day old water bottle. When he lay back against the headboard, he closed his eyes briefly and thought that the ache in his chest actually made him feel alive; something that he had been lacking just a few weeks earlier. 

When he opened his eyes, he saw someone sitting on Sam’s bed, staring intently at him. Always startled by Cas’ silent entrances, he tightened the towel and sat up straight.

“What the hell, Cas.” he muttered as they stared at each other, the air between them charged with something unnamed and fierce. 

“How are you, Dean?” Cas asked quietly, his voice crackling with what must have been many sleepless nights since their last meeting. The fact that Cas was partially human these days still unnerved Dean a little; it made him seem more vulnerable and that bothered Dean for some reason. 

Cas walked to the window and opened the blinds slightly. The light made lines across the bed, and across Dean’s chest. When he looked back at Dean, his eyes followed the curve of his shoulders to the scar he himself had left on his friend. Dean rubbed the spot instinctively as he saw Cas looking…

”I’m so sorry Dean, I still don’t know why that touch marked you that way.” 

“It’s okay”, Dean replied, looking down, “I think I needed to be marked.” The look that passed between them at that moment was all at once, painful and also profoundly comforting. 

“So, what brings you to the neighborhood?” Dean asked, suddenly on edge, realizing that he had been soaking in the comfort of Cas’ presence, without once thinking there could be something terribly wrong. 

The look Cas gave him at that moment made his heart begin to hammer in his chest; something was definitely up, the way he brought his hands up and nervously ran them through his already rumpled hair. 

“Cas…” Dean implored, standing quickly and walking over to where his clothes lay in a heap on his duffle. 

“Dean…” Cas said quietly, “I’m really not sure why I’m here.”

When Dean turned back, Cas stood and walked toward him, putting his hand on his chest and seeming to have trouble drawing breaths. All of a sudden, all Dean could think was that something was terribly wrong with Cas, and he was here to say goodbye. Seeming to sense his panic, Cas shook his head and reached out, placing his hand on Dean’s forearm. 

“I’m alright” he said, “I just don’t understand what is happening to me. I have had this feeling in my chest since that day three weeks ago, and when I awoke in a field this morning, all I knew was that I needed to see you.”

Dean looked down at the hand on his arm, and swallowed, suddenly the lump in his throat threatened to overtake him. He forced the feeling down as he put his hand over Cas’ and said quietly, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Dean’s next words were lost as the door to the room swung open and Sam strode in…a greasy bag in one hand and a cup carrier full of coffee in the other. His mouth dropped open as he stared at his brother, clad in only a towel, and the angel/man he called friend, standing inches from one another. 

“Ummm….”he said, clearly taken aback, “Hi, Cas.”

Dean abruptly withdrew his hand from Cas and grabbed his clothes, slamming the bathroom door behind him as he left the room. Sam looked at his friend and held out a cup of coffee, trying desperately to act like he didn’t feel like he had just walked in on something. Cas accepted the cup with a grateful smile.

“Good to see you, Sam.” he said, and sat at the small table in the room, looking calm, but very, very tired. 

“What brings you here, buddy?” Sam asked, and was met with a small smile. 

“Hell if I know” Cas smiled as he raised the coffee cup in a mock toast and took a long swallow. 

Dean was in the shower for five full minutes before he realized this was his second shower in half an hour’s time. A small smile played on his lips as he thought about the color that rose in Cas’ cheeks when he opened his eyes and saw him sitting there. Damn, it was good to see him; that much he would admit as he again searched for a towel; drying himself and dressing quickly, anxious to stem the interrogation he knew Sam was attempting to inflict. 

From the crooked smirk Sam sent his way when he opened the bathroom door, Dean knew he would find a very uncomfortable angel, if he had in fact stayed. For a second he thought Cas had left, but then the door opened and in he walked with a bucket of ice. Cas pulled a fifth of whiskey from his pocket, and ripped the plastic off a cup with the motel’s logo stamped in a revolting shade of green. He poured a drink and downed it quickly, wiping his lips and looking at each brother, in turn. 

“I think I was making him uncomfortable for some reason.” Sam explained with a smirk. 

Cas raised his eyebrows and made both brothers laugh when he said, “Ya think?” 

“Come on buddy,” Dean said, clapping him on the shoulder and turning him towards the door, “What do you say the three of us get out of this shit hole for a while?”

The hole-in-the-wall bar was just warming up for the evening when the trio walked in and claimed a corner booth, none of them willing to sit with their backs to the door. When the sapphire-eyed beauty made her presence known once again, Dean was five drinks deep and feeling better than he had in ages. When she gestured for him to meet her by the restrooms, Dean shot her a wink, and laid his head on Sam’s shoulder, fluttering his eyelashes as he downed another shot. Sam shoved him…hard. 

“What the hell are you doing, asshole?” he muttered through clenched teeth, and Dean started laughing and couldn’t stop. Cas smiled at the brothers through half-closed eyes, thinking there was absolutely no place on heaven…or earth, that he would rather be. 

When they finally made it back to the room, all three were barely upright and ready to crash hard. The brothers exchanged looks as they looked at the room with only two beds, and three grown men in need of a good night’s sleep. Cas, oblivious to the quandary (as was often the case), walked to the second bed and did a face plant, fully clothed onto the rumpled bedding. 

“Great…” muttered Dean as Sam chuckled, “it had to be my bed.” He pulled his jeans off and slipped on some sweats as Sam made a spectacle of making himself comfortable on the bed he had all to himself. 

He glared at Sam, silently daring him to say something as he arranged the blankets over Cas’ still form. He slipped in beside him, keeping close to the edge of the bed and sighed. When he saw that Sam was propped on his elbow, still smiling at him, he shot him the bird and turned off the lamp.

Hours later, in the depth of a hellish nightmare, Dean awoke, his heart pounding against his chest, something soft and cool against his neck. It was Cas…holding a cool washcloth against his pulse, looking at him in the dark, with such intense concern that Dean couldn’t speak. Without moving his eyes from Dean’s, Cas moved the washcloth over his face and forehead, tenderly wiping away the sweat, and somehow, he’d be damned if he knew how, the angel pulled the terror from Dean’s soul at the same time…

It may have just been moments later, but it seemed like a lifetime, Dean finally found the ability to speak. 

“Cas…” he croaked, but Cas just shook his head and pressed his fingers to Dean’s neck. “Shhh,” he said, “You need to sleep.”

The next thing he knew, sunlight was streaming through the window and Dean was lying shirtless, with the sheet twisted around his body. Cas was sitting on the end of the bed, and reading his mind like always, said, “You took your shirt off when you were dreaming.” Dean just nodded, trying desperately to clear his head and understand the effect this man had on him.

“Where’s Sam?” Dean asked. 

“Breakfast.” Cas said, standing. “I have to go.” 

“Already?” Dean managed to ask as his stomach clenched. 

“Something’s starting to happen and we have to be ready.” he said, coming to sit beside Dean on the bed.

Dean nodded and said, “It’s just better when you’re here, you know?”  
“I know.” Cas said frowning, “But I won’t be far.”

Dean looked away and swallowed, cutting his eyes back towards his friend and said, “Watch your back.”

So many unspoken words hung in the air as Cas nodded and said, “You too.”

Dean turned his back, unable to bear watching this man disappear into thin air again. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned. Cas looked directly into his eyes and, with a tremble in his voice said, “I am always with you.”

Dean nodded, unable to speak as Cas walked to the door and disappeared through it…


	2. Resurrection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam are involved in a heinous battle, not aware that they are in a battle for Cas' soul. Cas fights for his life upon his return, and he and Dean share a life-altering evening together.

“It’s Sunday…” was the first thing that came to Dean’s mind as he opened his eyes and blinked up into the bluest sky he had ever seen. What tipped him off were the church bells echoing, somewhere just to the west of where he and Sam lay, bleeding and broken, in a cornfield somewhere on the outskirts of Lawrence.

After Cas had left him in the motel room, they barely had time to gulp down their coffee before all hell broke loose. And when he said “all hell”, he meant it, unfortunately. Every monster that haunted his dreams seemed to reappear in his life in the months that followed, and he and his brother were wrecked; physically and mentally. When they drove into Lawrence two days ago, there was an army waiting, anxious to make good on every fucked up threat Lucifer ever made to them.

Now, all was calm, the recent threats lay smoldering thirty yards away where Sam had set them aflame last night. Dean sighed loudly and turned his head towards his brother’s sleeping form. Sam’s head was turned to the side…his face streaked with dirt and blood, still sleeping soundly. Dean rose from the ground quietly, and wiped his hand across his mouth. He flinched as the cut opened and blood began to trickle from the corner of his mouth. 

“Figures…” he muttered as he made his way towards the Impala. She was pretty beaten up herself; a headlight shattered and cracks spider-webbing across the windshield. He opened the back door and swung their “first aid kit” onto the ground. 

He found what he was looking for and dabbed the gash, gritting his teeth as the antiseptic met the open wound. He peeked into the rear view mirror and thought he had rarely looked this fucked up. Of course, he had rarely encountered the type of battle they had just been through, and it was some kind of miracle he was still breathing at all.

The word miracle brought tears to his eyes as he thought about what Lucifer’s cronies had told them last night. They said Cas was imprisoned in hell, and the more the brother’s fought, the more heinous the torture would become. Dean felt physically sick thinking of Cas in the pit, and the rage began to boil in his blood again, just as it had when he beheaded the son-of-a-bitch who had uttered those words the night before.

He walked to a large bale of hay and sat down, bringing a very old, very flat Coke to his lips. As he drank, he repeated Cas’ name in his head, over and over. 

“Cas…” he finally said aloud, “I don’t know how to save you, but I will, I promise you.”

The flutter of wings startled him, as a form appeared across the field, just far enough away that he couldn’t be sure…

The figure slid to the ground and crumpled, just as Dean began to run. When he reached Cas, the angel was unconscious, shaking on the hard earth. Dean bent towards him, calling his name like a prayer…

“Cas, God, Cas…wake up, I’m here. It’s Dean, I’m here…you’re safe with me and Sammy.”

He thought he saw Cas’ jaw twitch and his lips attempt to move the slightest bit. His heart lurched at the sight of this angel, or man, whatever he was, clearly beaten to the edge of his existence. His left eye was swollen completely shut, and something was wrong with his shoulder. When Dean slightly moved the denim shirt Cas was wearing to gently check his shoulder for a gunshot wound, he froze, rage boiling white hot as he saw what looked like barbed wire biting into the angel’s skin, and worse, he saw evidence that the wire had once been wrapped tightly around Cas’ neck. 

“Fuck,” he said as blood seeped from where the remaining barbs were imbedded in his shoulder, and from a raw, open wound just below his Adam’s apple. 

“Sam!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. “Sammy! Help me!”

Dean didn’t even turn as he heard Sam’s feet running across the hard dirt. Instead, he reached down and ripped the fabric away from the angry wound.

”We’ve got you Cas, we’ve got you, but you cannot give up…you have to fight, do you hear me?”

Sam was moving around them, dragging something heavy, cursing under his breath. When he finally came to Dean’s side, he reached out for the angel, gently lifting him and carrying him to the bales of hay he had arranged into a table of sorts. 

As the angel’s head lolled to the side, Sam spoke urgently…

“Whiskey,” he said, yanking his head towards the Impala.

Dean ran to the car, and returned with a fifth. Sam cursed as he saw the steel barbs puncturing the angels chest, shoulder and stomach. He started with the angry wound on Cas’ throat, and worked his way down his body, methodically. Sanitize, stich…repeat. Dean acted as assistant, sanitizing tools and handing them to Sam as he struggled to keep his cool.

“What the fuck did this to him?” Dean asked aloud, and Sam just shook his head grimly.

By the time they were done, night was falling and Cas had been stripped down to his boxers…every time they peeled away an article of clothing, more wounds were visible. Sam finally sat back against the hay bales and raised the whiskey to his own lips. As he passed the bottle to his brother, they looked at each other and the unspoken fear was palatable.

When Cas stirred in the middle of the night, Dean was there, speaking soothing words and holding the bottle to his lips. He was feverish and wide-eyed; however, those blue eyes looked right through Dean and Sam when they tried to comfort him. Dean’s nerves were beyond on edge by the time the sun began to rise. Sammy was passed out on some hay several yards away, and Dean got a sleeping bag from the Impala to keep him warm this chilly morning.

Just then, Cas began to stir under his light quilt…Dean pressed his hand against his forehead.

“Oh, thank God,” he said, as he realized Cas’ fever had finally broken.

Cas blinked up at Dean, confusion in his eyes. “Where am I?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Dean blinked back tears at the sound of Castiel’s voice…he had survived. He was here…he could reach out and touch his skin, he could look into those blue eyes, bluer than the sky had been the day before.

“Dean?” Cas asked, attempting to raise his head, clearly alarmed by Dean’s silence.

“Shhhhh,” Dean said, rearranging his jacket under Cas’ head; a makeshift pillow. “You’re outside of Lawrence, you were hurt bad, but Sammy sewed you back together.”

“You saved me,” Cas said, his eyes flicking from Dean to the Impala, and then to Sam’s sleeping form.

“That was all Sam.” Dean said, bringing a bottle of water up to Cas’ lips.

Cas drank obediently, but then looked at Dean and said, “Sam saved my body, but you saved my soul.”

“You need to take it easy, buddy.” Dean said, “You are obviously still a bit delirious.”

“Maybe,” Cas said unsteadily. “But you did save me. Lucifer’s army pulled me to Hell, and…”

“Fuck,” Dean muttered. “You were in Hell?”

“They wired me to a cross and all the demons took a shot,” Cas said slowly. “They told me that you were fighting a battle for my soul on earth…they said you would never win, and I would be damned.”

Dean stopped breathing. That’s why so damned many demons had swarmed them; that’s why the battle felt like the ultimate showdown. He remembered hearing Cas whispering in his ear as he fought; urging him on, pleading with him to survive.

“Cas…” he said, his voice trembling against his will. “This may sound crazy…”

“I was calling out to you the entire time Dean.” Cas said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you could hear me.”

Dean nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat as he began checking the angel’s wounds, simply because he needed to do something, this was just way too much.

“I could hear you Cas.” He whispered so quietly, he was surprised when Cas nodded.

Sam started stirring then, and offered a broad smile when he saw Cas awake and attempting to sit. 

“You did a hell of a job, Sam.” Cas said, “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Sam said, coming over to inspect the wounds as Dean replaced bandages with fresh ones.

The brothers exchanged glances, marveling at how Cas’ wounds were healing…quickly, probably a benefit of grace. The marks of the barbed wire remained though…and the sight of them made Dean’s blood run cold. He explained to Sam privately where Cas had been, and Sam’s eyes grew dark and dangerous while he listened.

The three of them ate fire roasted hot dogs as the sun set, and Dean pulled beers from the cooler and finally allowed himself to relax a bit. Cas looked better, had more color, was smiling at them in the twilight. He actually had an ache in his chest as he looked at the two most important people in his life; they had been spared, again.

Sam stood and told them he was going into Lawrence to see if there was anything he could do to help the family that now lived in their childhood home. The house had been badly damaged in the battle, the demons had lured them there, threatening to kill the innocent family that now made it home.

Dean wasn’t crazy about Sam going on his own, but he couldn’t leave Cas. 

As if reading his mind, Sam looked at Dean and said, “Don’t worry, Bobby and Rufus are meeting me. We wanted to scope out the damage tonight so we could get busy on it first thing.”

Dean nodded, “That’s a great idea…just watch your back Sammy, this one was almost the last one.”

“I know.” Sam said, looking directly into his brothers eyes.

Sam decided to hotwire a large pickup that had been parked inside the barn…he would need it to haul material, and he’d be damned if he left Dean and Cas without a vehicle.

Dean watched as Sam drove off, standing in the dust long after he had lost sight of the truck’s tail lights. When he turned back, and began walking toward the fire, he caught sight of a flash in the sky. His heart stopped, automatically assuming something evil was afoot.

“It’s just a shooting star.” Cas said, giving Dean a crooked smile. 

Dean shrugged and smiled back, flopping down on a camp chair next to the man in the blood stained, denim shirt.

“About that shirt…” he said, “Where’s the signature trench coat?”

“I was going for a rugged look,” Cas said with a laugh in his voice, “Don’t you think the blood stained denim makes me look like a bad ass?”

Dean smiled, for real this time, truly enjoying the company of his friend. 

“Hell yes.” He said, suppressing a grin, “Denim is sexy.”

He couldn’t help himself…he reached over and ruffled Cas' already untidy hair. Cas reached up and grabbed his wrist, his touch hot on Dean’s pulse. When Dean’s hand stilled, Cas looked at him without loosening his grip.

“If you had lost your life in that battle, I would not have fought for mine.”

“Don’t say that, Cas.” Dean said, his wrist still imprisoned, “Don’t you say that.”

Tears sprang to his eyes, and he blinked furiously to hold them back. Cas slowly loosened his grip, but kept his thumb against Dean’s pulse, never breaking eye contact.

“It’s true.” He said shrugging, “I don’t pretend to know why our connection is so intense, but I have finally accepted it.”

Dean looked at the fingers around his wrist, and tugged Cas’ hair.

“Me too.” He said as Cas released his hand. 

The answering look the angel gave him was intense, and Dean moved his chair closer, both staring into the depths of the fire, legs now touching. Dean felt a peace he couldn’t remember even coming close to as they sat in silence, drawing upon one another’s closeness to regain their strength.

Dean turned towards him, struggling with the depth of their connection, silently desperate to know why he felt like he could not draw another breath if this angel was taken from him. Cas returned his gaze, and the two men stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity…the fire flashing in their eyes, neither willing to break the silence and speak.

The moment was broken as Dean’s cell phone began to ring. He looked at the display…Sammy. He quickly answered, and they spoke for a few minutes. As he paced and talked with Sam, Cas walked into the barn, pushing a few more bales of hay next to the ones where he had lay earlier. 

When Dean slipped his phone back into his pocket, Cas looked at him questioningly. 

“Sam and the boys are going to bunk at the house tonight.” He said, “The family’s pretty shaken up, and this way they can get a jump on the construction early tomorrow."

Cas nodded and said, “They are safe tonight, Dean. All is quiet, for now…”

Dean nodded, grateful for the reassurance and sat on the edge of the hay bales. Suddenly he was so very tired, he yawned and scrubbed his hands across his face. Cas arranged the blankets and motioned for Dean to lay down. He did so without even a word of resistance, and a smile played at the corner of Cas’ mouth as he tucked his friend under the ragged, plaid quilt.

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you…” Dean said, fighting to keep his eyes open.

“You are.” Cas whispered as Dean’s eyes fluttered closed.

Cas climbed in next to him and looked down at his friend, noting the dark circles, the scars , the sadness etched into his features. He pressed his fingers softly, as lightly as a whisper, to the mark he had left on Dean’s neck. He was overwhelmed by the intensity of emotions that overtook him as he stared down at this man, so vulnerable in sleep. Dean never let anyone see this side of him, Cas knew this, and he was humbled.

Hours later, when Dean awoke, Cas was staring at him, their faces mere inches from one another. When Cas looked away, he gripped Dean’s bicep roughly, seeming to need to say something…

Dean sat up abruptly, throwing the quilt to the side. He couldn’t deal with the emotions that were surfacing.

“Don’t leave, Dean.” Cas said, “Please.”

Dean sighed and turned, “Cas…”

Cas rubbed his eyes, looking serious as he peered up at Dean.

“I feel the need to tell you something ” Cas said, suddenly looking uncomfortable. 

Dean’s stomach dropped…he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what the angel had to say. Soon, he knew he would either stay or leave, and Dean didn’t know how to deal with either option.

Cas stood and began to fold the quilt, avoiding eye contact with Dean for a moment. He then seemed to compose himself and looked resolutely back at his friend.

Dean steeled himself for what he was about to say, swallowing the lump in his throat, he took two steps towards Cas and their eyes met…

Cas swallowed, than opened his mouth to speak. Dean waited…

Just then, a horn blasted from the dirt road just beyond the farm. This was followed by a sound Dean would know anywhere…the squeal of the power steering issue Bobby could never seem to fix.

“Fuck…” said Dean …


	3. Not a Dream...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bonds between Sam, Dean and Castiel strengthen as they realize the full extent of their connection. Cas and Dean share an evening together and an honest conversation about the depth of their feelings for one another.

The drive back to their childhood home was a blur…Bobby had been trying to reach them for hours; Dean’s phone was stone dead, and all hell had broken loose once again.

Bobby told them Sam was hurt…physically, and maybe mentally as well. That morning, they had woken to a bright white light, and when it dimmed again, they couldn’t find Sam. When they finally located him, he was in his childhood nursery, motionless and unable to speak. 

Dean tore out of the car, rushing past Rufus and the man who now called the house home.

“Sammy!!” he boomed as he took the steps three at a time. He threw open the door and rushed to Sam’s still form. A woman was pressing a blood-stained washcloth to his forehead, speaking quietly. She looked at Dean, panic in her red-rimmed eyes. Dean recognized her as the man’s wife, but he didn’t greet her as he reached for Sam’s wrist…desperate for a pulse.

When he felt a faint heartbeat, his throat constricted painfully. 

“Sammy.” He croaked out somehow, “I’m here, I’m not going to let them take you. Wake up right now, do you hear me?” 

There was no response, and Sam’s blank stare scared the fuck out of Dean. “Bobby!!” he yelled. “Cas!!”

“Damnit somebody, help us!!”

He felt a hand on his shoulder and didn’t even have to turn around to know it was Cas. He couldn’t look at him…couldn’t tear his eyes from his brother, his fingers still on Sam’s pulse, which was slowing, weakening with every passing moment.

“We’re losing him…” Dean’s voice cracked. He cradled Sam’s head in his lap, never looking up. 

Cas knelt beside him and tried to move Dean’s hand from Sam’s pulse. Dean snatched his hand away angrily. 

“Trust me, Dean.” Cas said, using surprising strength to move Dean’s hand over Sam’s heart. He then placed his hand over Dean’s and a strange force began to pulse through their hands, joined over Sam’s heart. The warmth became so intense that Dean tried to pull back, but Cas held him there, whispering something that sounded like a prayer.

Cas’ eyes were closed tightly as his lips continued moving. Dean wanted to scream…wanted to ask him what the fuck he was doing…why were they wasting time? 

Cas frowned and motioned for Bobby to join them. When Bobby placed his hand on top of Cas’, Cas returned to his meditative state, seeming to be praying more quickly, with more desperation.

Suddenly, they was something that passed through all of the men, a tremendous force came from Sam’s still form and knocked all three of them back, Dean hitting his head on the closet door. When he lifted his head, he saw Sam doing the same, and he rushed to him, pulling him upright and pushing his hair back. 

“Sammy?” he questioned.

“Yeah.” Sam said, “How did I get here?”

Dean looked at Cas, who nodded and said, “They have left, Sam’s soul is intact. But we were almost too late.”

“Thank God.” Dean said, “What were they?”

“Angels,” Cas said, “On a mission for Lucifer.”

“It took all three of us to pull them out?” Bobby questioned, and Cas nodded. 

“It takes tremendous strength and love to banish an angel that has latched on to a soul.”

An hour later the group was getting the hell out of town, Dean and Sam in the Impala, Bobby and Rufus following. Cas had disappeared shortly after the incident, saying he needed to take care of something. The anger in the angel’s eyes had surprised Dean; his hands were actually shaking visibly.

When they stopped, it was at a campground in Missouri. The proprietors were old hunters, and they handed them the keys to the cabin without a word. They knew instinctively that the group needed to law low, and the cabin was surrounded by dense forest, a good half mile from the rest of the property. 

The men crashed hard that night, and Bobby took first watch. The night passed without incident, as did the next, and then the next. Sam was almost back to his old self as the sun set the third night, and Dean finally felt he could breathe again.

As he sat by the fire that evening, he finally let his mind wander back to that moment in Sam’s nursery, the moment Sam came back to him, and tears began to roll down his face. He wiped his eyes quickly and swallowed, determined not to let anyone see him this way. He just couldn’t do this anymore…couldn’t lose Sam again. If Cas wouldn’t have been there…he couldn’t bear to think of what the outcome would have been.

He closed his eyes and could feel Cas’ hand over his, hear his fervent whispers…his desperate pleas to save Sam. 

“Fuck….” Dean muttered to himself, “I didn’t even say thank you.”

It wasn’t anything new, Dean thought, he didn’t know a fucking thing about how to treat the people close to him. He was lucky they hadn’t all left him a long time ago. With a huge lump in his throat and his eyes still closed, he managed a quiet, “Thank you, Cas...” 

“You don’t have to thank me, Dean.” came a voice close to his ear.

Dean’s eyes flew open and darted around, sensing he wasn’t alone. When Cas stepped from the shadows, Dean just stared.

The angel stooped to grab a beer from the cooler and casually dropped himself in the chair next to his, all the while Dean was still at a loss for words. 

“It appears we’re family.” Cas said, locking eyes with him, the expression on his face suddenly intense.

“Family…” Dean said, still shaken by this sudden turn of events.

“I didn’t think it would work,” Cas confided, looking into the eyes of his friend. 

Dean frowned, “What?”

“I had seen it performed by a large group in Africa when a dark angel tried to take the matriarch’s daughter. It’s only supposed to work when several family members place their hands on the victim’s heart. Something about familial ties and the same blood pumping through their veins is what makes the force strong enough to pull the evil out of the victim.”

“Then, why?” Dean asked, getting agitated, “Why would you try it on Sam when we were almost out of time?”

Cas looked down, rubbing his thumb over a scar on his left wrist. 

“I knew it was our only chance, Dean.” Cas said, still looking away, “I had to try…”

When he finally looked up, both men had tears in their eyes.

“Family.” Dean repeated, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“I guess so” said Cas, finally giving Dean a crooked little smile.

“Well, thank you for trying.” Dean said, returning the smile.

“My pleasure.” Cas replied, settling into the chair and taking a swig of the beer, a smile tugging the corners of his lips.

Dean stole a glance at his friend as he stared into the fire, the light flashing in his blue eyes. The comfort that came to him in Cas’ presence was unnerving…and it made him feel like his skin was on fire. Despite these uncomfortable feelings, these stolen moments together had come to be a lifeline for Dean. It was like Cas breathed some kind of life force back into him at moments like this…took away all the doubt and fear. Dean tried to tell himself it was some sort of divine power that all angels possessed, but deep inside, he knew this was different.

When the rest of the group arrived, there were slaps on the back, and Dean made Cas re-tell the story of the family in Africa. Sam didn’t see surprised when Cas said normally only family could perform such a miracle. It seemed to Dean that Sam already knew they were family…the four of them joined by something larger than life or death. Dean swallowed to keep himself together, the magnitude of the evening’s realizations overwhelming him for a moment. 

Cas seemed to read his mind, and said, “Everything is as it should be tonight.”

All four men just nodded, everyone seemingly overtaken by Cas’ ability to sum up in a few words exactly what everyone was thinking.

A while later, Dean excused himself to go to bed. He pulled off his shirt and lay back on the cool sheets of the cot, a smile tugging at his lips. 

He was drifting off to sleep when he heard the murmur of voices outside the window closest to him. He lay completely still…it was Sam and Cas…they must have walked closer to the cabin to have a private conversation. He could barely make out their voices…

“Cas…” Sam said, “I really don’t know how to thank you.”

“No need,” Cas said somberly.

“Yes.” Sam said, “and when I say thank you, I don’t mean just for the other day, I want to thank you for everything.”

“It’s nothing.” Cas said, seeming embarrassed. 

When he looked up, his gaze passed Sam and landed on Dean’s still form, under a quilt, on a cot, appearing to be sound asleep.

“I’m worried about him, Cas.” Sam said, following his gaze.

Cas looked back to Sam, alarmed. “Has something happened?”

“Nothing new.” Sam said, “Dean will always try to show everyone how strong he is, but inside I know all of this is taking its’ toll…and…”

“What is it, Sam?” Cas implored, “What are you not telling me?”

“I’m just scared someday he’s going to do something stupid, just to end it all, you know?” Sam said, and his expression was inexplicably sad.

Cas stared back at him, his expression as fierce as Sam’s was sad, “I won’t let him Sam…that I promise you.”

Dean’s cheeks flamed as he lie perfectly still, pretending to be asleep. He was completely overcome by emotion, hearing the most important people in his life talking about him this way.

Sam was overcome as well, nodding his head and swallowing, “Thank you……you know, you really are family Cas.”

Cas’ response was muffled, and Dean smiled into the pillow…obviously Cas had gone in for one of his infamous hugs. He could picture Sam awkwardly patting his back, and see the angel’s smile.

Cas’ smile was the last thing Dean saw behind his eyes when he finally drifted off.

The next few days passed in a blur…they were all busy researching a disturbance in a neighboring county. Dean had finished packing his duffle for their departure the next morning, and fell into a camp chair beside Cas, cold beer in hand. He hadn’t seen a lot of Cas the last few days; he was in and out, taking care of God knows what…literally. 

Cas took a long pull on a longneck, and looked sideways at Dean, a crooked smile on his lips. 

“What have you been up to?” Dean asked.

When Cas shrugged, still smiling, Dean turned to him. The angel put the beer to his lips again, giving his friend a “my lips are sealed” look. 

Dean pulled the beer from the angel’s lips, laughing a bit when Cas tried to grab it back. Dean stood and walked away from the fire.

“You’re not getting it back until you tell me why you look like the cat that ate the canary.”

Cas followed him, looking perplexed at the reference. He reached his hand out for his beer, but Dean raised it just out of his grasp.

“Not so fast, angel boy.” Dean said, “Spill it.”

They were continuing to walk away from the cabin; Dean careful to stay a step ahead. 

When they reached the edge of the woods, Dean leaned against a tree and downed the last of his beer. He then raised Cas’ beer to his lips, smirking. He could see the wheels turning; he knew Cas wanted to tell him, but was hesitant, and he needed to know why.

“Okay, okay.” Cas said, “I was hunting.”

“Hunting?” Dean said, disbelief in his voice, “What were you hunting?”

“Angels.” was the short reply.

Dean raised his eyebrows and swallowed hard. He think he knew what Cas had been up to, and it made his chest ache for some reason. 

“Any angels in particular?” Dean asked, taking a swig of the beer that didn’t belong to him.

Cas stepped closer, and the two looked into one another’s eyes.

“Lucifer’s little army that was after Sam.” Cas said, and then looked up at the moon.

Dean stared, watching the light reflecting in the blue eyes of this man who had already done so much for Sammy…and for him. It was then that he noticed the new scars…right under both of Cas’ eyes….so close...

Dean swallowed painfully. “And…” he asked.

Cas returned his gaze to Dean; the world seemed to stop spinning.

“Killed every last son-of-a bitch.” Cas said, the grin pulling at his lips again.

Dean let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He couldn’t speak…tears sprang to his eyes, and he looked away. When he was finally able to return his gaze to Cas, he once again lifted the bottle to his lips.

Cas slowly reached out and took the bottle, looking directly into Dean’s eyes and moving it to his own lips…taking a long swallow.

Dean felt a warmth spread in his chest…and he smiled.

“Thank you, Castiel.” He said, his voice deep and trembling just a bit. “I don’t deserve it, but thank you.”

Cas returned his gaze and spoke, his gaze intense, “I would do anything for you and Sam, Dean.”

Dean nodded, that damn lump in his throat again. 

“Backatcha.” He said, reaching for the beer.

Cas laughed, stepping back and downing the last swallow.

“You bitch.” Dean said, taking a step towards the angel, who disappeared in front of his eyes.

Before Dean had a chance to register what just happened, Cas appeared again, cooler at his side. He handed Dean a beer and took one for himself before taking a seat, his back against a huge, stately oak.

Dean took a seat next to him and held his bottle up. When Cas tapped his bottle against his and smiled at him, Dean once again took notice of the scars under his eyes. Cas felt his gaze and touched the spots, shrugging nonchalantly. He pulled the edge of his shirt up, and turned, revealing a dark red wound at least five inches long…just millimeters from his spinal cord.

“This one hurt a lot more.” he said, still smiling.

“Fuck…” said Dean….he couldn’t help it, he reached out and touched the skin around the almost healed wound. “It came so close….it could’ve….”

Cas turned to look at him, “But it didn’t.”

Dean dropped his hand, unable to bear the feelings that were pressing on his soul. He couldn’t lose Cas…he just couldn’t…there were just too goddamned many close calls lately.  
He stared straight ahead, downing the rest of his beer in one gulp and Cas did the same.

They sat there in silence for what seemed like an eternity…drinking, thinking, and enjoying the comfort of each other’s presence.

A while later, the alcohol loosening Dean’s tongue and lessening his fears, he finally spoke…

“I can’t lose you, Cas.”

The silence that followed seemed alive in its intensity. When Cas finally turned to Dean, it was he who had tears in his eyes.

“I cannot and will not lose you, Dean.” he said.

They both looked down. Their hands were side by side, lying on the ground between them. In the silence that followed Cas’ words, he moved his hand half on top of Dean’s, and Dean closed his eyes….

He couldn’t help it, he squeezed his fingers around Cas’…he needed the warmth, the life that flowed into him at the touch. 

They sat there like that for a few minutes…to Dean, it felt like his heart was contained in his hand, and Cas was covering it…protecting it like he always did. 

All of a sudden, he pulled away and stood, panic seizing him. What he and Cas shared felt too right; and that scared the hell out of him. 

Cas sighed and stood. 

“It’s okay to let someone care about you Dean.” he said, a hint of frustration in his voice.

Dean was trying to form a reply, but Cas was walking deeper into the woods.

“Hey.” Dean said, “Don’t leave Cas…I wasn’t trying to be a dick.”

He heard Cas laugh, “You’re always a dick, Dean.”

Dean went after him…and grabbed him by the arm, spinning him around.

“I mean it.” He said, “I don’t want you to leave.”

Cas stepped closer, and looked him in the eye, still smiling. 

“I was just trying to find a place to take a piss.” he said.

Dean felt color come to his face…he was such an idiot.

“But…” Cas said, raising his hand and placing two fingers on the brand he had placed on Dean’s neck weeks earlier, “I’m glad you don’t want me to leave. I don’t know…”

“What?” Dean’s voice was barely a whisper.

Cas looked like he was searching for words, but then he just shrugged and dropped his hand to his side.

Dean reached over and squeezed Cas’ hand, briefly, but firmly, hoping everything he couldn’t bring himself to say would be conveyed in the brief touch.

Cas seemed to understand, and the moment was as perfect as it could get…considering the fucked up circumstances that were their lives. 

Soon, they started back towards the cabin, walking shoulder to shoulder.

“We’re leaving tomorrow.” Dean said.

“Yep,” said Cas.

“We better get good and drunk,” Dean said, “It might be a minute before we have another chance.”

“I’m in.” said Cas, “On one condition.”

“Name it.” said Dean, and he meant it with every fiber of his being. 

“No hookers tonight.” Cas said, “I beg of you.”

Dean laughed so hard that he almost tripped on a stump. 

The rest of the night the five men acted like they were normal Joe’s, not hunters/angels on the run. They drank, played cards and drank some more. It always amazed Dean when they were able to put the rest of the world away and act like human beings for a moment. It felt damn good to be surrounded by those that meant the most to him. 

One by one, they dropped off, passed out in different spots in the cabin’s large living room. As he laid a quilt on Sammy’s sleeping form, Dean glanced at Cas, slumped in a recliner, clearly out cold. 

“He looks just like an angel.” Dean thought, drunk and grinning, as he gently tucked a blanket around his friend, and then retired to his cot.

Hours later, Dean was dreaming…but he was on the cot, in this cabin. He felt heat on his face, and when his eyelids fluttered open, Cas was there. Cas stared at him and slowly leaned down…pressing his lips to the pulse in Dean’s neck. He couldn’t help himself…he reached out and ran his fingers through the angel’s hair, pulling him closer….”Castiel…”

Suddenly he woke, jerking upright and glancing wildly over to where he had left Cas sleeping the night before. No surprise, the chair was empty, the blanket Dean had covered him with, folded neatly on the ottoman. Dean pressed his fingers to his pulse, it felt white hot…and he had to be out of his mind…he could smell Cas, right there, like the dream had not actually been a dream at all.

He heard Sammy coming in from the bathroom, then saw him walking over to the chair Cas had left.

That’s when he saw the note. The piece of paper was folded neatly and tucked into the cushion. Dean looked at his brother, questioning as Sam bent and retrieved it.  
Sam opened it and cursed quietly, then held it up for Dean to read.

One word, that’s all it took for Dean to lose his mind once again.

“MEG” was spelled in Cas’ crooked penmanship.

“Goddamnit..” Dean cursed, and threw off the covers.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think!


End file.
